


Notebook Ideas

by QuillQ



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Female Harry, Female Uzumaki Naruto, Fix-It, Plot Bunnies - Freeform, Prequel, Time Travel, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 19:19:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18104789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillQ/pseuds/QuillQ
Summary: A collection of story ideas from different fandoms of various lengths.





	1. Index

**Index**

 

1\. [Prepone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18104789/chapters/42800627#workskin) \- Naruto - Itachi

2.[ October](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18104789/chapters/42800768#workskin) \- Naruto - Tobirama/FemNaruto

3\. [At sixes and sevens](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18104789/chapters/42800915#workskin) \- Harry Potter - FemHarry (Hollis)

4\. [Time Will Tell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18104789/chapters/42801992) \- Harry Potter - FemHarry (Holly)

5\. [Expiate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18104789/chapters/42805991) - Naruto - Itachi


	2. Prepone

**Prepone**

 

Uchiha Itachi stared emptily down at the pages of the Katon jutsu scroll he'd borrowed from his mother. He was supposed to be reading it for the first time, but Itachi already knew the end.

 

It wasn't just guesswork, Itachi actually knew word for word what this book entailed without having to read it. It was a special ability of his, and a secret he had never dared tell anyone.

 

The young boy of five years experienced it a lot; he could predict what would happen in the future.

 

That's why he was currently staying in his room and away from his parents. They were arguing because of Itachi once again.

 

Ever since his father had taken him out on the battle field during the third ninja war this occurred more and more frequently. His mother believed Itachi had become traumatized by something that occurred that day. Either the sight of the battle itself, or by something Itachi wasn't telling them. According to his mother Mikoto, he wasn't acting right anymore. Which meant it was Fugaku's fault for not thinking of the consequences that faithful day a year previously.

 

Itachi rarely smiled anymore, didn't show curiosity, had constant nightmares and never communicate with others unless forced to. And while he'd never been an extrovert per say, it was becoming far worse compared to how it had once been.

 

Instead the young Uchiha boy found comfort in his own company or with the books he quickly had found out he knew the endings of.

 

Not all of them though, which Itachi had found out through an experiment at the library where he'd picked up the first book on a random shelf before starting to read. The content had not jigged a vision that time, and as he read on he realised the content was new to him.

 

This was unlike all the books he actively sought out. Those Itachi knew, but he didn't know them before he sat down and started reading them. It was only then the content would come rushing in, and by the time he'd turned over page thirteen he'd remember it all.

 

These predictions – his visions – those Itachi kept to himself. He knew instinctively that no good would come from telling his parents, they wouldn't believe a word of it. And if they by some miracle did it would be even worse. Because what Itachi saw was darkness, utter destruction and death.

 

He didn't understand them though, and if the library had ever contained a book about visions of the future he'd have it memorized by now. But so far he couldn't make sense of it.

 

At first he thought he'd been imagining things.

 

A year ago he had been with his mother in town, they had probably been shopping for groceries, but the how and why Itachi couldn't remember anymore.

 

It had been a normal day, the sun had been out and the temperature pleasant. Half way to the store they had passed by an equipment store, which had caused him to get an odd sensation – because the store looked all wrong.

 

Stopping abruptly and looking at it for a longer timespan, Itachi thought that the store didn't belong where it was. Instead he pictured a store filled with carrots, tomatoes and cabbage displayed closest to the street, and an old lady smiling while selling her merchandises.

 

But now there was young man and his sister selling weapons instead, which for some reason didn't fit with what Itachi believed should have been there.

 

It caused Itachi to ask if he needed glasses, since he pondered if he was seeing things that wasn't there. When he'd explained this, it had upset his parents greatly though they had tried to hide it from him.

 

Especially his mother had become concerned for his mentality, while his father fretted he'd never be fit to become a shinobi because of Itachi's habit of spacing out at random places.

 

It was a few months later, when his mother took him down the same street that his breath had been knocked out of his lounges while growing panic escalated inside his head.

 

The reason was the change of store locations in the street. The old equipment shop had relocated further up the street while a new vegetable store had taken it's former place. Fulfilling Itachi's vision and making him become very confused.

 

Had he seen the future? Had he seen what would take over, and that was why he spaced out all the time?

 

He'd once gone to the graveyard with his mother to lay flowers on his grandmothers grave, and instead he'd been drawn towards an empty patch of grass in the upper corners of the graveyard.

 

It was one of those areas that was held off for future graves, and was currently being used for nothing more than to plant some flowers.

 

Yet Itachi could picture clearly a gravestone with the name  _Uchiha Shisui_  engraved into the marvel right in front of him. Making cold sweat and a hole of agony open up in his chest before he ran back to his mother.

 

He knew who Uchiha Shisui was, how could he not? They were cousins, though it had been a while since the older boy had been by their house. Shisui was a recently graduated genin and was busy with team assignments while Itachi was yet to even start the academy.

 

It was the first time it dawned on Itachi that these visions would slowly drive him insane.

 

~

 

Itachi held his brother carefully while supporting his head. His mother had already instructed him as much, but it was unnecessary.

 

He'd held Sasuke before. Or had visions of it at least, so the explanation was superfluous.

 

“Hi Sasuke…” Itachi said lamely, knowing his younger brother had no idea of who he was or what was going on. “I've waited for you for a while now.” Itachi continued, making Mikoto smile adoringly to her two sons.

 

Itachi wasn't paying attention to anything but his little brother though, noticing he was exactly how he'd envisioned. A rather ugly baby, but Itachi knew that wouldn't last very long. He'd grow into quite a handsome man if his vision were correct.

 

Itachi wondered how he himself looked. Everything he saw was from his own perspective, and there had never been a reflective surface around. So the only thing he knew was that he'd grow taller, but he didn't need visions of the future to know that.

 

“So you still insist on us calling him Sasuke are you?” Asked Fugaku, uncharacteristically grinning while he observed his children.

 

“Are you opposed?” Replied Itachi without taking his eyes of his brother, now starting to feel guilty for some unknown reason. As if he had something to apologize for. Maybe he'd grow into a bad brother?

 

“No, I think it's a great name. But I had to ask the Sandaime if it was okay first, seeing as his father had the same name.” Said Fugaku and stepped closer. “Am I allowed to hold my youngest son anytime soon, Itachi?” He asked playfully.

 

Itachi reluctantly handed Sasuke over to his father. Fussing twice as much as Mikoto did when Fugaku shifted his hold on his son.

 

~

 

“What are you doing here?” Asked Fugaku sternly, looking down at his six year old son carrying Sasuke.

 

It was late in the evening and Itachi was supposed to be babysitting Sasuke, not wandering around the village after bedtime.

 

“Sasuke was fuzzing. So I've been up trying to calm him down so he'd fall asleep. Is… Is everything alright?” Asked Itachi uncertainly, looking towards the other Uchiha guards patrolling together with his father.

 

“Yes, we're having a clam evening. Nothing is really happening. But why are you out here when you're trying to get Sasuke to fall asleep?” Said Fugaku, digging for more information on Itachi's intentions.

 

It was unheard of that his son did anything at all without a reason. Itachi was the brightest child he'd ever met. Sometimes he even wondered if Itachi was even smarter than himself.

 

“I don't think it's safe.” Replied Itachi, looking east in the direction of the Hokage monument. “It's better out here. The fresh air also helps calm Sasuke down.” He added as an afterthought, as if the first words had been a slip of the tongue.

 

It had, and at the same time it hadn't. Itachi hadn't known why he had the urge to leave the house all that day, but he was starting to realize it now.

 

Pictures were once again filling his head. But they were fuzzy and fast moving. Not as clear as they usually were when there was so few of them.

 

“What do you mean? Not safe? Is there something to report by our estate, Itachi?” Asked Fugaku troubled. Itachi shook his head, his eyes following the roof line of the buildings in the distance.

 

Waiting.

 

“Something bad is coming.”

 

This time it was one of his father's colleagues that stepped up. Uchiha Inabi.

 

“Why do you say that kid? It's a calm evening. Nothing to report.” He said friendly, bending down and roughing up Itachi's hair.

 

Itachi looked blankly up at them. He could see more pictures now. And the things he hadn't seen clearly before, now made more sense.

 

A giant fox.

 

The kyūbi.

 

Konoha in ruin.

 

Naruto...

 

“We should-” Started Itachi, but in that movement a roar rang over Konoha, and everyone looked up in shock. Inabi actually jumped in surprise before staring wildly in the direction the animalistic sound had come from.

 

“What the hell is that!?” Shouted Inabi and stepped backwards as another thunderous sound rang over Konoha. And next moment traces of smashing object being thrown into the air was visible through smoke and dust.

 

“Kyūbi.” Answered Itachi emotionless.

 

All three men looked down at him in shock, the bags under his father's eyes deepened in confusion.

 

Itachi knew for certain he'd just made a mistake. He could see other things clearly now as the ominous feeling in the air was confirmed to be the nine tailed demon fox.

 

On his way to find his father Itachi was supposed to have run into Izumi. A girl Itachi knew for a fact he'd never met in his life, but that in his visions he had.

 

He'd led her to safety too, but that wouldn't happen this time around. He couldn't risk going back in to get her as that would endanger not only himself, but Sasuke too. Not to mention his father would never allow it. Izumi would have to survive on her own.

 

He also knew that their Hokage would die tonight along with his wife and many others. But the child would survive. Naruto.

 

Inabi gasped in horror as a towering fox raised up above the smoke it previously had been engulfed in. Snarling viscously as tails and limbs attacked anything within reach. Considering it's size the footprint alone was enough to destroy a large street.

 

The small squad of Uchiha police men had been temporarily frozen in shock, and none of them had noticed how Itachi had started walking towards the demon.

 

“Stop it...” Itachi murmured. As if the demon could possibly hear him at this distance and would actually take his feelings into consideration. Foolish. He was so foolish. Because while he couldn't see it clearly yet, he knew this night would be the start of the Uchiha's downfall.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An old Naruto fix-it story focused on two time travellers trying to fix things, not realising they're not alone in attempting to save the future and often tripping one another up by accident with their good intentions.
> 
> Basically Itachi and Naruto are sent back in time without knowing the other is back too, but "wakes up with their memories" at different points in time, which results in a lot of confusion on both parts when things starts going very off course with the time line.
> 
> This is just the very, very beginning from Itachi's point of view of his memories coming back and how that alone is creating ripples in time.


	3. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very old fem-Naruto time travel story idea with a Tobirama/Naruto pairing. It's very patchy and was intended as a one shot, but I never really had a good ending in mind. Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes, as this is not beta'd and English is not my native language..

**October**

 

 

“Only 500 ryō! Today's special is cob, only 500!” Shouted a frail, old man just up ahead but Tobirama ignored the voice. He was already in line for the booth but not to buy cob, though he guessed he could bring some along. It was a good price, but he had a lot of shopping to do before he could return home.

 

He hated having to do these types of missions. Shopping.

 

As of one month ago their usual source of fish had been blown to pieces, the whole operation stank of Madara's work, and they now found themselves more dependent on going to Katanika village for varies supplies. Like fish.

 

They had people travelling further, fishing and gathering rations the normal way, but the party sent out two weeks ago had yet to return, and in the meanwhile they would have to do with civilian villages.

 

Tobirama looked over his list. Fish he'd get here, though it was not the best booth. If anything it was mediocre, but at a good price to say the least.

 

Though one thing had him puzzled. For some reason the place was unusually busy compared to his previous visits. The sudden increase in popularity might suggest the booth had finally hired security. That usually meant their best products hadn't been stolen before they could sell it.

 

This village was a neutral zone. It was situated far enough away that any ninja village found it a hassle to travel to, and didn't give any strategic advantage by being infiltrated. The village was poor, and you had to keep a watchful eye on your money at all times.

 

No one dared bother Tobirama though. Thanks to the clan symbol proudly worn on his uniform everyone knew who he was – what he was – and no one were brave enough to come close or speak to him. Tobirama just hoped he wouldn't see any rivalling clans about. It wasn't unheard of that you ran into a Hagoromo ninja here in Katanika, or even worse, an Uchiha.

 

The line moved forwards and the person in front of him - a short man a little older than Tobirama himself - visibly recoiled when Tobirama stepped after him. The man didn't like their proximity.

 

Not stupid at all.

 

Not all ninjas bothered with standing in line to a fish booth. Usually they just went straight up to the cashier and demanded their products at once. Who would stop them? Certainly not any inhabitants of Katanika.

 

By his appearance alone – armour, forehead protector and stature -Tobirama was officially the biggest bully in the village. Even at seventeen years old, just a man in most civilians eyes, he was not to be messed with.

 

But Tobirama had always been painfully law abiding, so he would stand in line. Though a few people had simpered and allowed him their place already. He hadn't passed it up. Sometimes it was easier to just accept than to be polite and allow them their rightful turn. They took it as a rejection and then ran away with their tails between their feet whenever he did. Which was more trouble than just moving ahead in line.

 

Now there were just a couple of people ahead of him and Tobirama looked curiously up at the buckets filled with fish on the counter. It looked like it always had, yet people flocked this place like it was something new and exciting in town.

 

Odd… They really must have hired security of some sort.

 

He looked around suspiciously, wondering who it was. A samurai disguised as a civilian perhaps? Hopefully not a ninja. Not a ninja from a rivalling clan at least. They needed all their people in the war.

 

Maybe they were hidden? On a nearby roof, or trailing around in the street within a visible distance? No one stood out so far.

 

The booth was placed in front of old and worn shack barely large enough to not call it a shed. The door opened with a sudden jolt.

 

And suddenly the increased popularity of this place became apparent.

 

A young, beautiful woman with golden hair tied into a ponytail came hurrying out. She was holding a large basket of fish while she smiled fleetingly at the costumer at the front of the line. The man followed her intently with hungry eyes, displaying exactly what he wanted and it wasn't really the fish he was buying.

 

Despite his effort not to, Tobirama rolled his eyes.

 

Tobirama looked curiously at the woman. If he had to guess he'd say she was in her older teens. She had tanned skin and electrifying blue eyes. The most unique features were the three thin lines on each of her cheeks. Horizontal, symmetrical scars.

 

Tobirama shuddered to think how the markings had been embedded into her skin. Though they looked completely healed now. Even kind of flattering. He supposed it had to be an injury from her her early childhood.

 

It was no surprise anymore why only men made up the clientèle in line, and Tobirama fought down the urge to snicker. In a village where everyone gained that starved, haggard look before the age of eight she was a sight for sore eyes.

 

Sure, the girl was pretty, in fact very pretty, but it was asking for trouble. If the girl hadn't been raped already it was just a matter of time. Or someone with status would soon buy her hand in marriage, and the old couple running the booth could hardly do much about it. As far as Tobirama could remember he had never seen anyone but them selling at this exact booth, and her appearance was so unlike them he doubted she was a relative.

 

Tobirama apparently won the jackpot, because when it became his turn to order, she was the clerk. He noticed the short man in front of him send him jealous looks where the old wife was dealing with his order, but quickly looked away when their eyes met.

 

“What are you after today, sir?” The girl asked with a bright, naive smile, which aught him off guard.

 

Tobirama couldn't remember the last time a civilian had smiled to him, far less in this village. He didn't think he'd seen a smile between anyone in Katanika.

 

“Two barrels of salmon, a tray of cob, and…” Tobirama inspected the basket the girl had just carried from the shed. “Is that karpe?”

 

“Yes, sir. Right off the boat too, sir.” The girl replied happily, and with ease she slid the basket closer for him to inspect.

 

Tobirama's eyes narrowed at the action. The basket was heavy, and he wondered how a civilian teenage girl could have moved it so effortlessly.

 

He took a discrete glance at her hands and saw that they were soft and free of scars. If anything they looked more like the hands of a noble, but there were no doubt they were civilian hands. Though her posture told him otherwise… It was the only thing hinting that the girl had training, as her oversized clothing gave nothing away about her physique to say otherwise.

 

“I'll have the karpe too.” He added with a nod.

 

Their eyes met, and for a moment he noticed how intently she was looking at him. Curiosity was visible in her blue eyes, before she hurriedly turned around and set to work. Effortlessly she picket up a barrel heavier than herself and put it on the desk.

 

And that left out any remaining doubt. There was no arguing it. This girl had training. Despite her hands being as clean as a baby she must have worked up muscles somehow.

 

So not only had the old couple found themselves eye-candy to keep costumers coming by, but the girl had some skills to protect herself and the booth to boot. Tobirama felt a sense of relief at that idea. It was good that the girl could stand up for herself in this sort of place.

 

“Naruto-san?” The old man asked slightly shamefully, and the girl looked curiously over while she tried to force the lid back onto the barrel.

 

The man didn't explain, but he gestured weakly towards his area of the desk. Her eyes narrowed at once and her gaze went from the old man to the costumer who he was serving.

 

The costumer leered back at Naruto but froze when he noticed Tobirama also looking at him. “Either pay up or get the hell away from our shop, uni-brow. We're not a charity.” The girl - who apparently was called Naruto - spit out with venom. Tobirama raised his eyebrow, curious at the sudden change in Naruto's posture.

 

The man flushed, his eyes darting from Naruto to Tobirama and then back to the old man.

 

“I suggest you either hand back the product, or pay what you're due, sir.” Tobirama said effortlessly, and everyone with the exception of Naruto tensed up.

 

“O-o-of c-course…. Senju-dono.” The man muttered and handed back a package onto the desk.

 

He hurried away so quickly you'd think he was being chased by a horde of Uchiha, a few people silently sneaking away at the same time.

 

There was a saying; “Don't piss of a ninja. It was a sure way to go missing.”

 

As if… at least the Senju had much bigger problems than arguing with civilians.

 

He looked back at Naruto. “I always find it amusing when they turn tail.” Tobirama said drily. Naruto turned back to him, one eyebrow arched. Probably because there weren't a trace of humour on his face.

 

“I find it even more amusing when they say costumers are always right.” Naruto replied with a playful grin, and Tobirama suppressed his reaction. So the girl talked back even to ninjas?

 

“You have training.” Tobirama stated. Looking at how she efficiently rolled over his barrel before getting to work on the next one. Tobirama picked up his scroll and manoeuvred the barrel over it. Next moment it was sealed inside the scroll while Naruto hammered on top of the lid of his barrel of cob.

 

“I get by.” She replied, not really giving him an answer but not denying it either.

 

“You're new here.” He said with dawning realization.

 

“Been here for a couple of months.” Naruto confirmed absent mindedly. She handed over the barrel while Tobirama stored it inside a scroll.

 

In no time he had everything, and looked back at Naruto when she stuck her hand out, ready to receive payment.

 

There was some humour on her face. As if she'd told a joke and Tobirama hadn't caught it yet. He also noticed she was forward. She wasn't afraid of him at all.

 

He picket up his pouch and rummaged though it, finding the coins at the very bottom. He almost wished he had more. Just to give the girl a tip for being somewhat normal. Though he guessed not being afraid of him was as far from normal you could get in this village.

 

He smirked crookedly when he handed over the correct amount. Naruto counted the money before sliding it into a pouch bound around her waist. She smiled brilliantly at him and bowed curtly. “Thanks for the business. Have a great day, sir.” Naruto said happily.

 

“You too.” He replied and nodded back, though he felt oddly reluctant to leave. But with a moment hesitation he forced himself out of the bizarre impulse to buy another bucket of cob. Naruto was already facing the next costumer as Tobirama left.

 

A respectable distance away he paused and peeked back towards the booth. Catching Naruto looking at him too.

 

He smiled politely and nodded again. Feeling like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, before hurrying away faster than necessary.


	4. At sixes and sevens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story idea: Female Harry (Hollis) time travels to the Marauders area, with focus on the Order of the Phoenix during the first wizarding war.

**At sixes and sevens**

 

**Prologue**

**.**

**.**

**.**

It had felt like her life was finally on the right track. With Voldemort dead, the wizarding community was slowly recovering, a good chunk of Death Eaters had been captured and the trials were still going nine months after the Battle of Hogwarts. Which was why there were such a need for Aurors, and also how Hollis had found herself on the speed track through their training regime. 

 

Because of the state of the ministry Kingsley had taken a different approach when it came to rebuilding their society. Everyone who’d fought at the battle of Hogwarts had been given the opportunity to join the aurors, and the ones who’d accepted found that the usual three years of auror preparation was now compressed into four months of intense training. Giving Hollis no time to think of what a mess her life truly was - which she’d secretly been thankful for. 

 

The gruelling training to become an auror had been a good distraction from the frenzied media stalking her steps, the grief of losing so many loved ones, and it also made her feel more useful than the alternative would have been. Which was fortifying 12 Grimmauld Place with Kreacher for company while drinking her memory hazy on Ogden’s firewhiskey, financed by the inheritance left by a string of dead people.

 

Luckily Kingsley had stopped that plan before it could even start. Dragging Ron and Hollis into Auror training only a day after the last funeral took place. 

 

And for months Hollis fooled herself into thinking her life had a purpose again. 

 

She had felt inexplicably empty without Voldemort to push her forwards. The sudden shift in perspective, that she actually had a _future,_ which could include anything from getting married and starting a family to becoming a teacher or and auror - or all three - had been difficult. 

 

For so long Hollis hadn’t believed she would live to see her twenties. To plan so far ahead had felt both foolhardy and cruel, when at times she hadn’t even been sure she wouldsurvive through the upcoming school exams.

 

With her new job Kingsley gave her a short term purpose capturing the remaining Death Eaters still on the lam. It was a good plan. It still made her life dangerous, but not nearly as scary as fighting Voldemort had been. It would probably take years to round them all up, but Hollis was determined to see it through.

 

It was her nicotine patch. She was now fighting Voldemort legacy instead of the man himself. She wasn’t sure what she would have become without it, and happy she wouldn’t have to find out either.

**.**

**.**

**Chapter One**

**.**

**.**  

Hollis Potter was intimately familiar with trouble, but in her defence she wasn’t the type to actively go around looking for it either. Trouble had always been adequate at finding her instead, and the few times it didn’t Hollis would- and not on purpose at all - stumble into it.

 

She wasn’t sure if this was one of those instances yet though. 

 

Her team had been sent to investigate the old Vanity estate in Bath. It was located on the rolling fields in the countryside not far away from the muggle city.

 

It was Harry’s seventh job as a qualified auror. Though unfortunately Ron -thanks to a very unfortunate mishap with an overexcited poodle with an appetite for gravy and sausages - had failed the Stealth and Tracking portion of his training, and was set to redo his test next week.

 

In hindsight she wasn’t sure if she had some fortune in her misfortune after all, because as the newest auror amongst the group she’d been saddled with all their gear for the assignment. It was a post war protocol inspired by Hermione’s beady bag, and now all auror teams had a tent and supplies in case of an emergency. 

 

So when everythingwent to hell she happened to have the whole team’s supplies stuffed in a small pouch fastened to her belt, hidden underneath her robes.

 

It had been colder the last couple of days, and when the team arrived just past eight in the morning a cold sheen of frost still covered the moist ground. The clouds covered the sky in a light grey filter that left the world without shadows. 

 

The Vanity estate had appeared abandoned at first inspection, but their various sources had led the department to believe Voldemort had been using the decaying villa for something.

 

Upon entrance into the manor it was hard to tell though. The bordered windows and dusty floors made it appear unused for years, but looks could be deceiving, which all the aurors on her team knew.

 

It was her own bad luck that made sure Hollis was the first to find the trap door leading to the room in the attic. They had come up empty handed for any trace of dark artifacts with their various tests, and as such had decided to take a more hands on approach for the rest of the search.

 

It was there in the attic her memory started failing. She could only remember the first minute or so.

 

Cautiously she had climbed up the ladder and opened the hinged door, being confronted by a dark and dusty room, with only shimmers of the low March sun gleaming through a small round window on the eastern short wall for light. The wooden floor creaked, but was muffled some by the fine cover of what Hollis thought was sand underneath her dragon hide boots.

 

Strangely enough there were rows upon rows of wand length sticks everywhere. They were hanging from thin threads tied around beams in the ceiling, but on closer inspection Hollis had concluded the sticks were not actually made of wood, but a dark matt material covered in runes.

 

There had been clear signs of activity there, and she had called out to her team to come up. 

 

Auror Hawking had been closest on the floor below, and she had heard his footsteps heading for the trap door.

 

Hollis remember heading towards the window, where a book was propped open on a stool, before trouble had once again found her. 

 

That was her last clear recollection. What was left of the upcoming events had been reduced to jumbled glimpses.

 

She remembered a strong smell of burned hair. 

 

She remember stumbling towards the book by the window and how it was knocked to the floor. 

 

Auror Hawking running towards the trapdoor and shouting something. 

 

She remember the full moon covered by stars through the round attic window - which was odd since they had arrived at the estate at noon. 

 

And no more. 

 

~

 

When Hollis came to again she was covered in bruises and definitely not in the Vanity manor anymore. After a disoriented moment Hollis wasn’t even sure she was in England either. 

 

Because it was now stifling hot.

 

She had been boiling up, laying dirty and bruised in the middle of a dry field with no one in sight under a stinging afternoon sun.

 

Her first instinct had been to get the hell away, but some of her auror lessons must have finally taken root, because even Hollis had realized she was in no state to apparate. Her physical injuries were manageable, but her head was too disoriented to focus on Destination, Determination and Deliberation.

 

So the next best option had been to get out of the heat. 

 

After a lot of effort she had shakily scrambled to her feet and started stumbling down the field, allowing the pull of gravity to help her move down the uneven terrain.

 

In retrospect Hollis knew the distance hadn’t been very long, but in her state it had felt like a double marathon. Her heart had picked up speed from the task of standing up, and sweat poured down her face after only two steps. Her head swam dangerously, her vision went blurry and her body ached. She had thrown up, but nothing but stomach acid came out.

 

At last the yellow long straws met the tree line, and she almost wept with joy, because on top of the shelter from the scorching sun she also heard water trickling by not far away.

 

In a daze she tumbled through the trees, uncaring about her knees getting scratched raw as she blundered through bushes in a straight line towards the sound of water. 

 

In her heat haze Hollis was so focused on fighting through the trees she failed to notice when the ground disappeared, and fell flat into a canal.

 

Again, it was questionable if it was lucky or not that the water hadn’t been deep. On one hand Hollis didn’t drown from tumbling into a canal while too weak to swim, but on the other hand the landing hurt like hell.

 

A family of ducks quacked in panic at her abrupt arrival and flapped away, but Hollis was more interested in her new set of wounds to match her bruises.

 

Half an hour later Hollis finally managed to clamber out of the dirty canal with an embarrassing amount of effort, and lay panting at the side of the water. 

 

She had opened her supplies, found an apple and a bottle of pumpkin juice under a preservation spell before sitting down to eat and gather her strength. Her soar throat made each swallow painful, and she barely managed a few bites before she felt nauseously full. It was first now her mind was catching up and she was able to take in the situation, which was all kinds of confusing.

 

If she looked away from the blood boiling heat Hollis was pretty sure she was still in England, the place even resembled Bath, just with an obvious difference. 

 

It was like Hollis had slept through the entire spring only to wake up in high summer.

 

It was a disconcerting thought, but not entirely unlikely. It wasn’t the first time an auror had accidentally gotten themselves into a coma. The question in that case was how she had survived laying in a field for months.

 

She slowly took out her wand from her holster and conjured a mirror to examine herself, only to wish she hadn’t.

 

Her hair was so knotted it didn’t resemble hair anymore, and filled with all sorts of grime and water. Her face was blotchy and bruised and her upper lip was bleeding. But her wounds was not the disconcerting detail. What scared her was how green eyes looked back from sunken sockets in a drawn, pale face. 

 

It looked like she had been starved.

 

She dropped the mirror, swallowing painfully before she saw the state of her hands. They were thin and frail, the knuckles pressing out against her skin, making them look bony. Glancing down she noticed how she drowned in her oversized robes, and from the gap she saw that her trousers lay too baggy around her legs, though she knew this outfit had fitted her perfectly just yesterday.

 

She touched her stomach, which lacked the normal firm muscles and felt like tight skin wrapped around a waist too narrow. Her fingers shakily moved up to her ribs that jutted out, as well as her chest, which admittedly had never been too large, but was now almost none existent.

 

The pains of hauling herself across the field suddenly became more understandable. Hollis had always been slim, but now she was well past anorexic.

 

Shakily she stood up on too skinny legs, unsure what to do next. If she had been knocked out for months, than her team had left without finding her, but she still - stupidly enough - hoped this was just some huge misunderstanding.

 

Maybe a heatwave really had come across Bath in the middle of March. Maybe she was hit with an overeager dieting curse, and that’s why she looked like a walking skeleton. Stranger things had happened before… Right? And if this was some huge misunderstanding and everything went to hell her team was scheduled to meet up at Bath train station. 

 

She grimaced, thinking of the reception she would receive once the guys saw her.

 

They would undoubtably give her hell for this, no doubt, but Hollis could only feel relief that at least the headline on tomorrow’s Prophet wouldn’t be; “WOMAN-WHO-CONQUERED – DROWNED IN BATH”.

 

Admittedly this would be the last time for a very long while that Hollis would feel any sort of relief.

 

~

 

 

Miraculously Hollis arrived at the train station without splinching herself. She was covered underneath her invisibility cloak and only a few by passers jumped at the sudden loud crack.

 

At a first glance she didn’t really notice anything off. People were still bustling back and forth toreach their train and Hollis was too distracted scouting for her team to notice.

 

The station wasn’t large, so it would be easy to spot the incoming aurors when they arrived. With effort she slid down the wall and sat on the cold tiled floor before doing a quick charm to make sure muggles didn’t accidentally run her over in her invisible state. As soon as she was comfortable she resumed her search, trying to find signs of auror Hawking. He was the tallest of the team and his lime yellow robes were usually easy to spot amongst muggles.

 

Another thought was starting to bother her too. Perhaps it really had been months since the mission to the Vanity estate, but the reason she couldn’t remember the time from early spring to what felt like the middle of summer was because of a badly preformed memory charm? Perhaps waking up in that field had nothing at all to do with the Vanity estate assignment but something else entirely. A mission that had gone horribly wrong and made it so her memories were behind the times?

 

She fished out her Protean Charmed notepad and flipped through the pages.

 

The notepad was a way to communicate when they were separated during assignment, and like the DA coins Hermione had made during fifth year, carried over messages. This one was fancier and only opened to a certain password Hollis had decided herself. 

 

To her reliefthere had been no updates to their correspondence since the assignment in Ireland last week. That had to mean something right? At least there weren’t a bunch of notes which she had no recollections of writing from missions she could no longer remember.

 

She found a quill filled with everlasting ink and dotted down a message. Her hand was shaky, making her handwriting even sloppier than usual.

 

_“HP; Arrived at Bath railway station-”_ Hollis glanced down at the watch given to her by Mrs Weasley for her seventeenth birthday, the one that once belonged to Fabian Prewett, and frowned at the time indicated. It said it was four at night, but obviously it couldn’t be. The blaring sun hanging in the middle of the sky was a dead give away. Deciding whatever happened must have broken her watch Hollis found a clock on the wall, and checked the time before continuing to scribble. _“- at 13.25. Sitting against the south wall invisible. Need healer assistance.”_

 

Laying the pad in her lap she glanced up. Almost expecting them to appear immediately. But even though Owl post had always been swift to come with ministry warnings, even Hollis knew it would take them a few minutes. She glanced down on the page. Waiting for an affirmative from her team, but the message still gleamed back at her on its lonesome.

 

To kill time she watched the muggles instead. Finally taking notice of a few oddities. A lot of people were wearing unusual attires. Hollis couldn't be sure, as she had been mostly disconnected with the muggle world for almost a decade now. She knew Aunt Petunia wouldn’t have approved of some of the styles going around. 

 

A group of teenagers were joking and laughing by the doorway, as their clothes had caught her attention. Granted, even before Hollis started Hogwarts she’d never owned anything but Dudley’s hand-me-down’s, so she had never been a fashionista. Yet Hollis couldn’t imagine any of Dudley’s gang wearing so many bright colours. It was also something about the way the clothes were cut. Hollis wasn’t sure what it was, only that it was different from what she expected within the UK.

 

It was hot, so they were all wearing summer attires, most of the girls had the same haircut too. Straight hair with long thick fringes. One girl was wearing bright yellow shorts and a matching top in the exact same color. It was quite eye catching, and the same went for her friends. Hollis was surprised they didn’t stand more out in the crowd with the colour splatting of clothing that most wizards would probably take a liking to. Yet somehow they didn’t. The bright colours seemed to have come back in style in the muggle world.

 

Hollis shook her head, pushing the oddity out of her mind as she glanced down on the page again. It was still blank.

 

A man in a red suit - which Hollis thought was similar to something Uncle Vernon had worn in one of his older photos hanging in the hallway at Privet Drive - ran past her in a hurry to catch his train, and threw his newspaper towards the closest trashcan. It barely missed and hit the edge and fell to the floor with a flop. The man glanced at it briefly but didn’t stop. Instead continuing his hurried march towards the platform. 

 

Shaking her head Hollis was about to vanish it with her wand when she thought better of it. Instead she used accio, making the newspaper swoop into her outstretched hand. 

 

If the guys were taking their sweet time to arrive than Hollis would need something to distract her. She was also starting to think she really had been out for days at best, months at worst. She needed to know the date. 

 

At first the whole layout disoriented her. She was used to the Daily Prophet or Uncle Vernon’s muggle newspaper, but this was clearly not the same one he had subscribed to. There was far more text and less pictures. Momentarily puzzled Hollis quickly flipped through the pages, ending on one that had a fairly large font capturing the main title; “WATER ‘CRITICAL’ IN HOLIDAY RUSH”. And further down on the page a smaller heading with the words; “LORD FEATHER DIES AFTER A STROKE.”

 

Confused she found the date printed at the top of the page, and her eyes boggled at the first three words. 

 

_Wednesday, July 28,_

 

But if those didn’t unsettle her, than the year at the end certainly did.

 

_Wednesday, July 28,_ **1976**

 

For a few very long seconds Hollis simply stared, her eyes squinting in an attempt to make the small digits change to 1999 instead, but no matter how much she stared at them, the numbers stubbornly refused to alter.

 

The last time she checked Hollis was pretty damn sure it was Monday, March 15, 1999.

 

Stumped numb she looked up in the direction the man had headed. What idiot walked around with a twenty year old newspaper anyway? 

 

No wonder he threw it away.

 

Growing worried Hollis stood, her wounds and aches momentarily forgotten in her frustration. Across the street there was a store with the day’s newspaper hanging in the windows, and stubbornly she headed for it.

 

She glanced over at the old car parked outside on the street. Since when could people park right outside a train station? Wasn’t that supposed to be cleared for busses and taxies and stuff? The car looked shiny and well looked after, but the model was pretty old as far as Hollis could tell. Uncle Vernon’s car hadn’t been so sharp angled.

 

She did a double take when a familiar Ford Anglia rolled past her. She was no expert, but the similarities were staggering down to the exact same colors as Mr Weasley’s old car too.

 

Another oddity… But maybe the muggles had some car convention here? 

 

Thoughts of vehicle nutters and outdated cars swiftly left her as she reached the window, again trying to get a better understanding of how long she’d been unconscious.

 

But to her immense irritation the window was plastered with outdated newspapers.

 

What was wrong with this place? She knew Bath was known for it’s old Georgian architecture and their reluctance to let go of the past, but damn, these guys were as retro as the wizarding community.

 

But even as her mind decided to blame the muggles for lack of public information another feeling was creeping up her chest. 

 

A woman walked past her and Hollis could have sworn her shirt had the exact same tapestry pattern as Aunt Petunia’s kitchen. Her attempt to check was unfortunately trampled as a sea of people came out from the train station and the woman was swallowed by the crowd. 

 

Everything around her was feeling off. The details altered and Hollis hadn’t felt this alien since her introduction to the wizarding society.

 

Was this how Ron felt whenever he was in the Muggle world? Had she become that lost to the happenings outside the magical community? It felt almost like she’d travelled to a differentcountry.

 

The uneasiness in her chest grew, and Hollis knew she couldn’t wait much longer. She dragged out her notepad one last time. Her message remained unanswered.

 

Not caring about the reaction of the muggle crowd anymore Hollis turned on her heel and disappeared with a sharp crack.

 

.

.

 

It took Hollis a few stolen newspapers from both muggles and wizards alike, and the sight of a younger Tom behind the bar of the Leaky Cauldron to make Hollis realize the growing fear in her chest had been justified after all. The suspicion of what might have happened, as impossible - yet not completely unlikely because she was a witch - had indeed been proven correct.

 

She had ended up in the past.

 

Hermione’s warning rang inside her head before she could do something more productive. Like Panic. 

 

_“Awful things happen to wizards who meddle with time, Hollis.”_

 

But what was she supposed to do?

 

She had to find out more, make absolutely sure, and her next stop was the Burrow. 

 

She arrived outside the gates to the property, but even without checking the inmates of the house Hollis could tell something was wrong. 

 

The house was… smaller. Some of the added stores to the house were missing, and only the first couple of layers were still standing. The sight made her doubt she’d even arrived at the right place, before a familiar figure made Hollis freeze.

 

Molly Weasley was walking across the garden. Her belly was bulging out, clearly very pregnant, and a boy of around four years old was walking next to her. Trailing after them were three chicken, pecking away at the trail of crumbles the boy was leaving for them.

 

Hollis didn’t approach. She was lost in a horrible spiral of sickening understanding. 

 

Molly appeared young, and despite being pregnant her figure still looked more petite than she ever recalled Mrs Weasley being. Her forearms more slender, stronger, her legs more shapely, her hair longer and her skin firmer.

 

She looked like a pregnant Ginny, but with a few differences. And the boy… The boy was Charlie. Which meant the baby not even born yet had to be Percy...

 

Hollis had just enough time to apparate to the Forest of Dean before the little she had eaten since waking up made a return with vigour, along with more disgusting smelling stomach fluids.

 

Though she understood what was happening Hollis still hadn’t accepted it, and as a result went into a strange sort of detached disbelief that would last her for months. It might have been survival instinct. Because in hindsight Hollis didn’t know how she got though that period of her life.

 

Instead of pacing, instead of panicking, instead of doing all those things and completely implode on her own rage and fright, Hollis had done what little she could. 

 

She was sick and weak. She was alone and couldn’t go for help. She had to survive on her own.

 

Hollis had gone through all of her provisions, and concluded she had enough to last her a while without having to interact with the outside world. 

 

She had a tent, one with five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a kitchen and a livingroom that could house an auror team in comfort. There was even a small library in there. There was food stocked in a closet to last for months under preservation spells.

 

She put up the tent with practiced ease, and even started putting up wards before she remembered that no one would be looking for her. 

 

She was in the past.

 

There was no Ron here to help, no Hermione...

 

No one gave a damn what she was doing. No one knew her here.

 

The following panic attack was not pretty.


	5. Time Will Tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time travel plot bunny with FemHarry and Hermione.

**Time Will Tell**

 

A thin layer of dust covered the floor and furnitures, screening their original colours and making them dull in their appearance. The room was in a hushed silence, a calm before the promised storm. No matter how many times Remus came here, he couldn't stop the nerves and worry from settling in.

 

At first the place had been nice. It was an existing house that had been abandoned, but Dumbledore had fixed it up. Put in furniture and strengthened the durability of the existing walls, floors and ceiling. The windows might have been bolted shut, stopping sunlight from entering, but Remus didn't mind. For the night this was his prison. The wolf's restrained barrier to stop him from harming anyone except himself, and at the same time it was his redemption. His ticket to have a future. To be something else but a beast.

 

Remus sat shakily down on the bed. He had about fifteen minutes until _it_ started. He could feel it in his bones. It crawled over his skin and ended in a constant stomach ache. He had felt like this constantly for two days already, and after years of the repetitive symptoms once every month he had learned to quench the pain.

 

He had to get undressed now. Make sure his clothes survived this transformation. A year ago the wolf had found them during the night, tearing them apart so he didn't have anything to change into come morning. He had been late entering the shack, and as a result he hadn't had time to store the clothes in the sealed drawer of the dresser Dumbledore had procured for him before the agonising change had occurred.

 

Ever since he had made sure to come early to dress down. Madam Pomfrey always came to check on him if he failed to return to the castle on time, but it didn't stop him from being humiliated to be found naked and without robes to cover himself.

 

He took off his robes first, folding them neatly and placing it on the foot of the bed, before fidgeting with his tie and putting it a little less carefully on top. He'd just taken off his white shirt and placed it on the growing pile when he heard something. As if the wind made noise inside his airtight prison.

 

Remus froze.

 

Next came an even more worrisome sound.Muffled voices.

 

“ _What? This isn't right.”_

 

The only reason he heard that sentence was thanks to his heightened senses. As a werewolf Remus saw better in the dark, he heard better than normal humans and smelled just as much as a dog would.

 

Before the sentence had finished Remus turned around, sniffing the air, but all he smelled was dust and timber. Their sent hadn't travelled up here yet.

 

“ _Hermione? Wha- this is absurd... What's going on?”_

 

Hurriedly he ran into the hallway, looking at his watch on the way. Ten minutes. Whoever was here had ten minutes to get out.

 

His steps echoed through the house, and the voices and movements stopped abruptly. “Hello?” Remus called out, and he thought he heard something on the level below. Shifting garments.

 

Without thinking it over he rushed down the stairs, still only half dressed when he jumped the last two steps and landed with a thud. He was shaking and sweating, panicked by his current situation. “Is anyone here?!”

 

Remus heard the panic in his voice, knowing every second counted. He heard footsteps - hurried ones coming from the living room. With just three quick steps he had crossed the room from the staircase to the door and threw it open.

 

With a sweeping look he found exactly what he head feared in the corner.

 

Two girls.

 

He had never seen them before. But the way they looked at him was not reassuring. The tallest one had brown and curly hair reaching her shoulders. Her clothes tattered but still - somehow – worn completely correct. Her light brown eyes were wide and shocked when she saw Remus, and at the sight of him her skin grew even paler.

 

She was scared. Possibly terrified.

 

The other one was not as scared. If anything she was confused. She was also looking at Remus with uneasy and startling green eyes, but by the way she stepped towards him it wasn't nearly as bad as the brunette.

 

“Wha-” She said, her voice low and soothing but she was interrupted when the brunette on her right fainted.

 

“Hermione!” The raven haired girl cried as her friend blacked out. Slumping to the floor limply.

 

Remus had gotten over the first shock at seeing them though, and hurried forwards. “You need to get out of here! Now! It's not safe!” He whispered, looking between the girls. The brunette – Hermione – was already waking up. Her friend bent over her while she shook her shoulders.

 

“What's going on? Are you alright? What happened? How did we end up here?” The raven girl asked, firing of questions Remus would like the answer to too. Hermione gasped for breath, some colour coming back to her face as she did so.

 

“What do you mean?” Asked Remus, confused at what the raven implied. She didn't know how they got in here? Who were they? They were dressed in school uniforms, they were around his age -thirteen or fourteen - but he didn't recognise them.

 

He could even see the gryffindor emblem on the brunette's robes, but Remus was certain he'd never seen the two in his entire life. Though there were much more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. “Forget it, you just need to leave. Now!”

 

“Holly!” Hermione's voice was higher than the other girl, but that might be because of the obvious panic in it. “We need to leave.” She hurriedly got to her feet – or as best she could manage while her whole body shook – and grabbed the raven haired girl's hand. She had called her Holly.

 

“What did you do, Hermione? How did we end up in the Shrieking Shack? We need to help Si-” But Hermione stopped her from saying anything more by slapping a hand over Holly's mouth, efficiently stopping her questions.

 

“I'll show you where you can get out. Come.” Remus said and pointed towards the door leading to the hallway. Hermione dragged her friend after her without a word. Her eyes fixed straight ahead while Hollytrailed confused after her.

 

“Are you-” She started saying, glancing towards Remus but Hermione shut her up.

 

“Don't talk! Don't say anything.”

 

Remus watched in horror as the girls made their way to the secret entrance – without his guidance – and opened the secret trap door leading to the tunnel. The secret passage to Hogwarts.

 

“Wait, Hermione! We were-”

 

“Shut up!”

 

They were gone so quickly Remus was left in their wake, shaken to the core with thoughts and suspicion. Who were they? How had they gotten in here? How did they know? Come to think of it – what exactly did they know? The brunette had been in charge and she had been terrified of him, while her friend had been more confused than Peter during a herbology exam. She didn't even seem to know how she'd gotten there.

 

But his thoughts were growing muddy. A clear sign the transformation was just around the corner. He coughed painfully and hurried back into the hallway, making sure the trap door lock clicked properly into place by kicking it down with his foot.

 

Next he fell to his knees on the trap door as his feet gave in to violent shaking. His breath came in gasps and the wolf howled to break free, answering the call of the pale moon unseen inside the dark hallway of the shrieking shack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very old draft of a time travel story with Hermione and FemHarry (Holly) ending up in the Marauders area by accident. Basically the time turner malfunctioned when Hermione and Harry were going to save Sirius in Prisoner of Azkaban, and they end up meeting Remus in the Shrieking Shack when he's a third year at Hogwarts. Obviously no one is very happy about it.


	6. Expiate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might be a bit confusing, and things might appear very AU at first, but this is a time travel/prequel story to Naruto canon. I know that sounds confusing but hopefully things will make sense by the end.

**Expiate**

~

 

He had been born on the kitchen floor on a moonless night in June.

 

He’d been told the story, and knew how his mother Mikoto had been alone at home, his father at the police station, when her water suddenly broke a month too early.

 

The birth had been so quick she hadn’t had time to go to the hospital. Instead she had given birth alone in the dark kitchen. The neighbors had heard her screams from the street, and a moment after the newborn boy had entered the world they had stormed into the house ready for battle.

 

Uchiha Itachi was a good son. Ever since he could remember his father had been proud of his achievements. He managed to graduate a year before his classmates, he was always polite and respected his elders. His duties were of the highest importance. How could they not? It was all he knew.

 

The early years of his childhood would eventually end up as blurry memories, but Itachi was certain he had been content with his life despite the ongoing war. He recalled waiting silently at home, trying to keep himself busy, to become a better ninja, so he could go out on the battlefield and help his father who was never home.

 

Uchiha Fugaku was not only clan head, but also an active soldier in the war. It left his mother stressed, and him to fear the outcome of the battle raging through the elemental nations. The dead piled on, but Konoha and the Uchiha prevailed day after day.

 

The day the Third War was over was his first clear memory from his childhood, because his father finally came home, and told his small but revealed family he would be more present from then on.

 

He kept his word. Fugaku always did. His father didn’t make promises he couldn’t follow through with, and Itachi and Mikoto were ecstatic. It lasted for almost a year, and though Itachi was still young he recalled those months as the golden time of his childhood.

 

Then the Kyūbi attacked, and nothing would ever be the same again.

 

~

_Denial_

~

 

It angered him how they treated them. The village always looked at them with distrust. Itachi might be young at eleven, a month away from twelve and a newly graduate from the academy, but he wasn’t blind nor stupid. They blamed the Uchiha for the Kyūbi attack, but the blame didn’t lay with them.

 

They had lost people in the attack too, but the rest of the village were all too willing to ignore that little fact. Uchiha Shisui, Uchiha Kin and Uchiha Inabi had been close to where the Kyūbi had appeared, and perished. Still, none seemed inclined to remember that.

 

Instead Itachi focused on helping the clan. They needed him.

 

_~_

 

Itachi kept to the roofs, because being down on the street brought too much attention. The public had never been so aggressive before towards the police, and the Uchiha responded in kind. They didn’t deserve the scorn of the village.

 

They had done nothing wrong. These people deserved what they got for believing in such volatile hearsay.

 

He skipped to the neighboring roof, and almost jumped in surprise as a figure rose up from behind the cover of a chimney. Tall, lean and with silver hair standing on end to elongate his stature.

 

The infamous Hatake Kakashi was recognizable even behind the ANBU mask and gear.

 

“Pardon, Inu-san. I didn’t see you.”

 

The man didn’t reply, which was understandable. Itachi couldn’t believe he had said something so stupid. _“I didn’t see you?”_ Of course he didn’t. Hatake was ANBU. Hatake was a once in a generation prodigy. At Itachi’s age Hatake had been promoted to jonin and a war hero. Despite often being called a genius for being so much ahead of his age group Itachi knew he came up short against the likes of Hatake Kakashi, who had been ahead of his entire generation.

 

Itachi didn’t know where to look, as the holes carved out for proper sight lines in the mask were so dark they hardly worked as eye contact, and the mask was off putting. Blank.

 

Hatake could be in the middle of an assassination or just strolling home from work, and Itachi wouldn’t know which from his appearance alone.

 

He side stepped, and decided to leave. Hatake watching his movements as he went.

 

Itachi braved a single glance down to the street, noticing the blonde little boy heading from a ramen stand with a skip to his steps. He had been trailing the boy for half an hour, mapping his movements on the behalf of the clan. But he didn’t dare continue this now. Who knew what Hatake might report to the Hokage if Itachi was seen lurking around the jinchūriki.

 

However, this little encounter had reminded Itachi of something important. Something he should probably mention to his father. As it would probably be prudent for the Uchiha if their plans took off while ANBU Inu was out of the village on a longer mission.

 

~

 

It had been ugly… The blackmail used was very underhanded, but at least this way the most people would survive.

 

The Uchiha didn’t want an uprise, so the takeover had been silent. The problematic one had been Danzō, so he had been dealt with first. While his corpse was still cooling down they had gone for the two other advisors and the Hokage. The advisors were past their prime and easily dealt with. Both kept alive for the time being while Hirzuen was cornered.

 

The leverage was easy enough to find. In the end only six people were killed in the take over. First Danzō, then the two advisors, before Sarutobi Asuma, the Kyūbi brat and Hiruzen himself. The kage’s son and jinchūriki were used as leverage to force Hirzuen to make a public statement that he was retiring under the threat of killing his family and unleashing the fox. When their usefulness was over they had to be disposed off for witnessing too much.

 

His mother had killed Asuma, while Itachi had killed the blonde demon container.

 

The child was unexpected though. In his fear and anger he had almost unleashed the Kyūbi, so killing him had been a surprising challenge.

 

The whole village had felt its chakra, so they had a perfect explanation for the deaths that day. The Kyūbi had almost gotten out, and Danzō, Hiruzen and his son had died taking it down. The public loved the Yondaime for his effort, and they paid their respect for the dead this time too.

 

At the time the whole event had gone by so fast, and the deaths hadn’t faced him in the moment. But for the remains of his life Itachi would remembered the jinchuriki’s death at random moments when he least expected it.

 

He’d been just a boy. He’d been scared and cornered. He didn’t think he would ever forget his eyes as he died. Because in that moment he realized just who they had killed off. It would seem the Yondaime was even more ruthless than Danzō for what he’d done to his son.

 

At least the two would be together now.

 

_~_

 

Itachi was oddly emotionless. He watched his father as he stepped up to the edge of the roof and looked seriously down at the crowd below. This was supposed to be a moment of triumph. A moment of victory and celebration. The Third had not been an able ruler. His time had passed, as shown by the Uchiha clan’s victory. Konoha would be in much better hands under his father. Konoha was a village founded by their clan, and it was only right their clan led the village into its golden age.

 

Still… Something heavy sat in his chest as he watched his father raise his hand and wave to the crowd. The Fifth Hokage taking up the mantle at last. Maybe the Fourth could have been a good leader too, but they would never know. He had died, and left the village to go downwards in the hands of the Third.

 

The crowd roared.

 

Itachi wasn’t sure if it was in encouragement or fury. But nothing was thrown, so he was leaning against the first. His mother was on his other side, her hands clasped behind her back as a picture of a proud warrior. Pushing down the conflicting emotions building in his gut Itachi smiled when his father turned towards them and left the railing.

 

It would be okay. The Uchiha was in power now. Everything would be better.

 

~

_Anger_

~

 

He was sixteen when he was promoted to jōnin. He had a very successful mission not long before and was able to kill off the traitor Nara Shikaku. The man had been loyal to Hiruzen, and taken his whole clan and left Konoha after the siege.

 

How he realized they had killed Hiruzen no one knew, but the Nara had been an intelligent clan, and Itachi was proven just how much in their battle. Never before had Itachi been so close to defeat. His death would have been assured if it wasn’t for Izumi and Yamato’s help.

 

The news had been brought straight to the Hokage office, and the traitor’s death had made his father very proud.

 

Itachi wasn’t too sure himself. His battle with Shikaku hadn’t left him with the usual rush of victory. The assurance that it was all for the safety of the village they loved and protected. Nara Shikaku had been… brilliant. His words, his actions… his strategies. Not a stone had been left unturned. Itachi was lucky to be alive even though the Nara had not been a combat specialist. He had first and foremost been a strategist just as Itachi was first and foremost an offensive fighter.

 

The man had left Itachi shaken. His last words too meaningful to be anything but a blade stuck into his gut only to be turned as a last sting from the dying Nara. _“_ _You Uchiha were always too emotional… too quick to blame. Who will you blame for my death? Is the wrongs of a few enough to condone the deaths of the innocent?_ _”_

 

Itachi had been sure he was speaking of his dead wife at the time. Their son had gotten away, which in hindsight had probably been Shikaku’s plan all along. To hold them off long enough to give his child time to flee far enough. Had they managed to track him the boy would have been dead too. Konoha didn’t tolerate avengers.

 

The longer he thought about it, the more unsure he became. Who had Shikaku really spoken of? The death of the Sandaime? The death of the council? Or was it the boy… The blonde jinchūriki Itachi himself had killed. The boy hadn’t done anything. He was the victim of the Yondaime’s actions by sealing a demon into his own son. The victim of being close to the Sandaime. The victim of being an unwilling strategically important chess piece. The victim of having no protectors and no guidance.

 

He had died the way he was born. As the sacrifice in someone else’s plan.

 

~

 

Itachi wasn’t sure why he felt unrest after that mission. By all accounts his life was great. The village loved him, and now that he was jonin he was the brilliant new head of the Uchiha clan. His father was Hokage, so his mother had been acting as clan head until Itachi proved himself ready for the title.

 

But things were changing. His father didn’t take any chances, and changes were made accordingly. The academy were tougher, as the future ninjas were required to excel. The Uchiha district were moved next to the academy, in the center of the village where they had always belonged. The police force came down harder on unlawful individuals, and had more power in their punishments. The boarders got stricter control, and people without paper, be them visitors or refugees, were denied entrance.

 

The alterations came gradually. So gradually it took Itachi hearing the dying man’s words to start noticing these changes. It filled him with dread. Not because he was against the new circumstances, but why they were needed at all.

 

His father boasted the steady growth of the village. How quickly the village was recovering after their coup under his leadership. Before Konoha had been through a war followed by a Kyūbi attack. It hadn’t been stable, but according to his father things were growing steadily and rapidly upwards since the Uchiha came into power.

 

But was it true?

 

He couldn’t imagine his father lying to him. On some level Fugaku genuinely believed what he preached, but the increasing paranoia his father displayed made him weary and on guard. Konoha was his home, and he wouldn’t let anyone threaten it. The Uchiha were co-founders and the law of Konoha, and as an Uchiha it was his duty to make sure it staid safe. Even if it was from rot within.

 

~

 

The mission had gone well until their return journey. His team had been ambushed by Suna shinobi, and Itachi hadn’t expected his own reaction.

 

One of his teammates died.

 

It wasn’t the first death he’d witnessed, but it was the first time someone under his responsibility had been killed on his watch.

 

“What do you gain from attacking us!?” Itachi growled furiously at the Suna shinobi clutching at his arm in pain.

 

“You think of no one but yourself!” Itachi shouted, hitting the man hard in the face. “Why can’t you all see further than your own back yard? No one ever bothers to care for anything more than your own village! Suna is allies of Konoha. You broke the peace. You killed an ally! What do you gain from attacking a random team? What did we ever do to Suna?”

 

The questions were rhetorical, as the man was well past capable of speech. Itachi kept hitting the body until it was turning cold in his grasp. A mutilated corpse well beyond recognition.

 

He was horrified with himself.

 

Itachi wasn’t sure what was happening. He was scared of himself. Afraid and furious.

 

The Uchiha had to balance a lot of power and were therefore always expecting an attack. It suddenly dawned on him why he always had to keep his back clear. His whole world view had abruptly shattered. The facts had always been in front of him. Itachi had taken part of it, executed it, protected it, and yet hadn’t seen it for what it truly was.

 

In the long and idealistic speeches of his clan members during the planning of the coup Itachi had turned blind. Looked away from the truth that was so obvious from a distance.

 

The proud and dignified Uchiha clan had turned to cowardice and snuck in the back door and stabbed the Hokage in the back.

 

No matter what intentions they had behind it they had betrayed the village they had protected for decades. From a young age, he’d been explained the importance of duty. Of the pride in their strength. In their unique powers and abilities.

 

The Uchiha name was supposed to be the most honorable of them all, but they had come like petty thieves in the night to take what they wanted. Itachi didn’t know what was worse. That they’d resulted to such weak measures in the first place, or that it was only a matter of time before someone did the same to them.

 

The world had turned on its axis.

 

The Uchiha weren’t all knowing. It wasn’t even honorable.

 

He returned home with a new outlook on life just in time for his own wedding.

 

~

_Bargaining_

_~_

 

He was nineteen when his new bride told him the good news. They were expecting a child.

 

His parents were ecstatic, as they had barely been wed for two month before Izumi had fallen pregnant. His father and mother had tried for two years before Itachi had been born, and as an only child it was self-explanatory that they hadn’t been able to conceive a second.

 

It was a joyful moment followed by doubt and fear. Itachi wasn’t sure he was cut out to be a father. He didn’t know how to take care of anything, even their old dog had run away after two months in his care. Mostly because he forgot to feed it. His fretting only grew the closer they got to the due date, and his one reassurance that it would be okay was that Izumi would be a wonderful mother.

 

She was caring and excited about the baby. She got a hold of everything they would need, she bought books on birthing and parenthood, and she made Itachi read them all when she was finished.

 

His son was born on the coldest winter day after a long and exhausting birth, where Izumi almost lost her life trying to bring the new Uchiha heir into the world.

 

Itachi thanked whatever deity watching over the world for not taking her away, mostly for the sake of the child that was later placed in his arms.

 

At first Itachi thought he looked… ugly.

 

He was wrinkly and red, and he wouldn’t stop screaming. The medics were working on saving Izumi though, and as the worried father they dumped his son in his arms while they tried to save his wife. His worry for Izumi soon eclipsed any discomfort Itachi was feeling, and he found himself rooking the baby, trying to soothe the little creature who was his son.

 

It took him a while, but soon the worry changed. He had been scared Izumi would die, leaving him to raise their son alone. He would make so many mistakes, he didn’t know what he was doing. He would loose his closest friend and the woman he loved. It was enough to terrify anyone, but as he cradled his unnamed son hour after hour his thoughts altered. He wondered what his son would go through growing up without Izumi. How it would affect _him._ Their son deserved to know his mother.

 

They were small observations, but as Itachi held him, soothed him and tried to make him sleep, he started to get to know him. The knowledge that this was a person he was responsible for affected him deeply. He had been painfully aware of this for months already, but it was just now he understood it. A spark of recognition of what that entailed settled into his heart, and from that day, it never left.

 

~

 

He was named Kuimo. His little boy was full of life, and Itachi regretted that he couldn’t be there to watch his many firsts.

 

Whenever he missed a new development Izumi eagerly filled him in, and Itachi always listened with rapt attention. The first time he laughed. The first time he smiled. The first time he sat up. He missed them all by a few hours, because every day he would hurry back from work in hopes of getting to put him to bed in person.

 

It was difficult too. Kuimo had a healthy set of lungs on him, and made sure his parents got to experience just how impressive his volume was for such a small thing. Itachi didn’t mind though. He worked all day, and the nights were the only hours he could spend time with him.

 

However he was only human, and he felt the strain more for each day. He was dead tired both at work and at home, but he was slowly learning to sleep whenever possible. Be it during mission or at the dinner table at home.

 

Izumi wasn’t impressed, but she was wonderfully understanding.

 

Kuimo gave him hope. Itachi couldn’t imagine anyone greater or more wonderful than his son, and as Kuimo was an Uchiha, it had to mean there was hope for his clan. That there was still something honorable in their blood that was completely untouched by the corruption of the ninja world.

 

The boy was the brightest light he had ever been in the presence off.

 

Eventually Itachi was forced to leave on longer missions by his father. The Godaime Hokage had strengthen the security, and sent men further away to make sure the village boarders weren’t breached. Itachi was too distracted by his new joy to question why his father felt a need to.

 

It was for the village. For his home. He had a child now, and Itachi would burn the world to the ground if it meant Kuimo staid happy and content.

 

~

 

Hatake Kakashi intimidated him.

 

Itachi wasn’t sure why, because it wasn’t for the obvious reasons. The copy ninja had a fearsome reputation. A living legend spread out through the elemental nations.

 

No, the reason he imitated Itachi was his silence. Itachi knew the man was a genius, and something told Itachi that Kakashi knew exactly what had gone down when the Uchiha had grown into power. But the man was as alone as they come. He had no friends. No family. He was one man, and could do nothing against the village that answered at their whims. The question was what one cornered wolf could do if it got desperate enough.

 

But he was one man.

 

The Uchiha were taught from a young age the importance of unity. How the clan had prevailed through their close ties, that though Konoha was important, they were never to forget their roots. Their power and abilities came from their blood, and without the clan they were nothing.

 

And Hatake Kakashi didn’t belong with anyone. He barely belonged to Konoha at all.

 

Even with his growing doubts and unrest, Itachi knew that one man alone could never make a difference.

 

~

 

The attack had come suddenly and without warning.

 

Itachi had been fortunate as he’d been training up on the Hokage mountain when the alarm had gone off. Akatsuki’s attack was brutal and ruthless. He had never seen a battle quite like it.

 

When he reached the village there were bodies sprawled at every corner. He wasn’t even sure who was attacking at the time. He’d been on the outskirt of the village as a figure rose into the air from the center of the village.

 

In a horrible moment he had frozen, an out of body experience fell over him, as if he knew, without a shred of doubt, that something horrific was about to unfold before him, and he would be absolutely powerless to stop it.

 

His eyes trailed the path of the figure who rose into the air, arms outstretched towards the heavens, as if calling on Kami itself. A beat of rushing silence crashed against his ears, and then the man turned Konoha – Itachi’s home, the strongest of the five great villages – into dust.

 

_~_

_Depression_

_~_

 

The attackers hadn’t come for anything but information. When Pein had forced the truth straight from his father’s mind and realized the Kyūbi hadn’t been within the village for over a decade, he had left the village in ruins for his own twisted revenge.

 

While his mother buried Uchiha Fugaku, the brave and strong Fifth Fire Shadow of Konoha in a ceremony as grand as the torn village could manage, Itachi buried his wife and son as far away he could get under the current circumstances.

 

When he’d finally been able to dig out their bodies they’d been dead for days. He didn’t speak to anyone, he didn’t invite anyone for the funeral. It was a private grave, hidden away in the mountainside east of Konoha. The mountain top had a good view the ocean far away in the distance. That way their spirits could escape, and not be doomed to linger on in the village that had taken their lives too young.

 

He had cared deeply for Izumi. She had been a wonderful wife and his closest confidence, even if it had been short, but his son… Itachi didn’t know he could feel this broken. This hurt. He understood now why they said that death was black.

 

The ache in his heart was constant, and the hole in which his one year old child had resided in was cut out of his chest. A bleeding wound he could only hope to bandage, but never heal.

 

His fury and grief was a bottomless pit, and the list of those he wished to harm grew steadily for each passing day. Pein and his blue haired companion who had attacked the village. The other members of Akatsuki for following their orders. His father for neglecting to tell his troops of the danger he had known of. Himself for being weak and failing to save his son’s life.

 

Itachi’s shoulders felt heavy, a consuming void ate away his remaining hope, and his eyes shed tears of blood onto the freshly dug soil of his son’s grave.

 

~

 

The world rapidly fell back into war soon after Konoha’s fall. Half of the village’s inhabitants had died that day, but in its wake his mother had taken on the title of Hokage.

 

Some days Itachi wondered what had happened. If a single rolling piece of gravel had eventually caused an avalanche. So small in the beginning no one had cared to take notice, until it spread and now came hurtling down the mountain to crush them all.

 

Because the Fourth War had started. A war unlike all the previous ones.

 

Itachi stared at the battlefield. It was all so pointless. They were nations of enemies battling against another enemy, but there was no unison. No end in sight, and Itachi knew instinctively that as soon as this battle was over, they would all be vulchers going after the few pieces left.

 

“So here we die.” Itachi murmured quietly. He was the leader of the third division out of sixteen with Hatake Kakashi as his second in command. The man in question looked curiously up at him. An expression he had never been graced with before.

 

“I would say it’s been sweet, but that would be a lie.” The friend killer replied.

 

The ground shook underneath his feet. A tailed beast roared in the distance.

 

“If you could do it again… Would you change it all?” Asked Itachi. The question had been lingering on his tongue for a long time. He wasn’t sure when the thought first occurred to him, only that it had always lingered there. A manifestation of his doubt. His wonder if this was right… If anything could have been done to change this. If he could have made that single piece of gravel roll down another direction if he’d chosen differently in life.

 

“I’m not sure.” Kakashi replied and lifted his hitai ate, the loaned Sharingan whirling lazily in the Hatake’s socket. Itachi sometimes got the impression it was the only thing the copy ninja still gave a damn about. Being allowed to keep it made the man more inclined to follow his orders. Something Fugaku had used to his advantage several times in keeping the lone hound of Konoha under control.

 

“Aren’t you scared? We’re about to die.” Itachi snapped. His anger too close to the surface to be contained any longer.

 

“That’s the thing I guess… Fear is only for those who has something left to lose.” The copy ninja replied, and then he smiled and put his hands in his pockets.

 

Itachi watched him stroll towards the battle, and for a moment Itachi imagined Hatake was actually excited about the prospect of an assured end.

 

Worse of all. Itachi was tempted to follow him.

 

What did he have to lose anymore? He only had his mother now, and as brutal as it sounded, she wasn’t enough. Itachi was intelligent enough to know he’d lived a privileged life. He hadn’t lost anyone truly close to him until recently, while ninjas such as Kakashi had dealt with one devastation after another since his early childhood. He had never seen it clearly before, but he finally realized why Kakashi had always unnerved him.

 

The man represented what you turned into after you’d been broken beyond repair. Kakashi had been destroyed years ago, but was somehow still existing. Itachi could accept that now. He had only broken recently, so he would need some time to catch up to the level Hatake was on, but he knew without a doubt that sooner or later Itachi would welcome death too.

 

But he wasn’t completely shattered yet. His desire for revenge still lingered. It was the only thing he still cared about. He needed to avenge his dead son, it was the one thing he couldn’t lose.

 

In their current situation they were all doomed. It mattered little, because hope had left them a long time ago.

 

They needed more time. Some way to prevent this. The Akatsuki wanted the nine and eight tails, but no one could hand over the Kyūbi anymore than they could command the shinigami to release his souls. That art was lost sixteen years previously. The eight tails jinchūriki was far away, kept safe from the battle as it all lay on his shoulders to stay alive for the sake of the rest of the world to keep breathing too.

 

In a moment of clarity Itachi realized he was fighting the wrong battle. There was a way to gain time. Maybe a year, maybe more, but time none the less.

 

Itachi left without anyone noticing. Everyone were too busy. Too desperate. Leaving the remains of his clan to die in his wake alongside their old enemies.

 

He knew what he had to do.

 

~

 

It hadn’t been easy, but he had managed himself fine in the heated battle. Now Itachi stood with a fresh cut over his face, dripping blood down his jaw and onto his torn Konoha flack jacket.

 

He stared passively down at the chilling corpse of Killer Bee. He was dead, and the eight tails with him. Breaking through the security had been easy compared to the true battle. Now the war was useless since the eight tails couldn’t be stolen.

 

For now.

 

Itachi already knew that for all intent and purposes, he had only bought the nations more time to await their inevitable end. Time they all so desperately needed. At least now they weren’t fighting time itself alongside such a formidably enemy.

 

Yet he felt there had been too many mistakes. Too much suffering. Half of Konoha had gone before the war itself started, and Itachi knew, without a doubt, that as soon as the war was over, and the other nations deemed Konoha unnecessary for their own survival, they would come for them. Konoha was already on fire, but no one seemed to have realized this but Itachi himself.

 

~

 

Nagato’s death had been anticlimactic. The man had been half dead when Itachi had finally caught on to how he operated his techniques. Like himself the man had seemed less than before. The lengthening war stretched him thin, and when Itachi arrived to kill him the man had barely had enough chakra to keep up a fight. Still, Nagato had been exceptional, and even tired and worn the man had held his own long enough to give Itachi some opposition before he died.

 

Konan lay without a head in the corner of the cave, Itachi had made sure Nagato saw her dead first before he finished the slaughter, his death wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying unless he felt some of the anguish Itachi had.

 

He didn’t feel any better though.

 

In the last three years he’d slowly been chipping away pieces of himself. First his clan, then his happiness, then the village, followed by his honor and now his revenge was gone too.

 

There was little left inside him now. He felt like he was using a hollow shell for skin of someone who had once had potential. Uchiha Itachi had been someone else. A better man. The boy who were destined to become the next Hokage, the great and clever genius of the Uchiha.

 

What remained wasn’t even human anymore.

 

He recalled the old wife tales his mother had told him as a child. About the Uchiha curse of hatred. It said that the most important duty the Uchiha had was to protect their own, as the grief of losing the one they loved the most led the clan members to insanity in their thirst for revenge.

 

Itachi no longer believed it was just a wife’s tale. He could even appreciate the Nidaime’s actions in making sure the Uchiha never went out of control. If one man could cause so much destruction, then certainly there were reasons for keeping an eye on potential succeeders.

 

Apathetic and drained Itachi glanced from Konan to Nagato, feeling empty at his sought victory.

 

What was he supposed to do now?

 

~

 

He couldn’t go home. For all intent and purposes, Itachi was either dead or a traitor. Konoha just hadn’t decided which. One moment a hero for having killed Nagato and Konan, another a traitor for not returning to the front lines.

 

It didn’t make a difference.

 

It had been years since the Fourth War broke out, and though the nations had made some headway with Akatsuki – the masked man calling himself Madara still lived on. Still hunting for two bijū he had yet to find.

 

It would be some time until they reformed, but when they did… it would be over.

 

~

 

A man sat down opposite him, and Itachi lifted his head slowly. Scrutinizing the stranger he hadn’t sensed enter the dingy bar in the middle of nowhere.

 

“You’re a troubled soul, Uchiha Itachi.” The voice was deep and echoed oddly. Almost unrealistically, yet no one seemed to notice despite the quiet room. Only two other people were there with them. The bored waitresses and an elderly man drinking his sorrows away. Or maybe that was himself?

 

“What do you want?” Replied Itachi calmly. He would probably have to leave this town as soon as possible, the stranger had recognized him, but Itachi would learn as much as possible beforehand.

 

“The same as you. I wish for peace.” Itachi’s eyes narrowed, trying to see through the shadows of his hood, yet was unsuccessful. A genjutsu?

 

“Than you’re looking in the wrong place. This is where you come when you’ve given up.” Itachi replied calmly. His fingers tracing the edge of his cup.

 

“Maybe you’ve given up, but I can still see some hope in you.”

 

“Hn.”

 

“You don’t believe so?”

 

Itachi took another sip, his eyes glazed over and his mind fighting against the memories of his life. He didn’t look for hope. He’d stopped that long ago. Itachi believed there was a limit to how far one could fall, before it was too late to climb back up. If you crossed some lines there just weren’t any turning back. He often wondered which line it was he had crossed that made his situation so irreversible. For years he had believed it was the death of his son, but he wasn’t so sure anymore.

 

He had started falling long before that.

 

And what was it to this stranger anyway? Was it too difficult to leave a homeless, alcoholic traitors to his own business?

 

“I can sense your conflicted heart Uchiha Itachi. It screams out to the stars, as it should.”

 

Itachi finally looked up. Maybe this man had been sent to assassinate him. Maybe it was his mother who finally got over her reluctance to harm him. Maybe it was the Akatsuki.

 

Itachi didn’t really care which.

 

“You have made some mistakes you can’t rectify anymore. Once upon a time there was hope, but your ability to think for yourself arrived too late. Soon the world will burn, and there’s nothing you can do.”

 

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Itachi growled.

 

“But there’s something I can do. But I can’t do it on my own. I need someone to be my hand, and after years of contemplation, I’ve decided that it should be you Uchiha Itachi.”

 

Something in his tone of voice made Itachi falter for a second. He had been about to dismiss the man as even more insane than himself, but the words used resonated with his very soul. His eyes narrowed and his muscles clenched. Weariness finally settling into his numb mind for the first time in too long.

 

“I believe an introduction is in order. My name is Hagaromo, but I believe you mortals refers to me as the Sage of the Six Paths in your legends.”

 

~

_Acceptance_

_~_

 

Itachi had been given a choice. Forsake the present to restore the past. It wouldn’t be without struggles, it wouldn’t even be pleasant. Hagoromo believed he would have a painful time if he chose to return, and Itachi agreed.

 

The possibilities sounded endless though. He could change it all. He could go back and make up for every wrong choice he ever made. He could hunt down Akatsuki earlier, be more prepared than this time. Itachi even dreamed of saving his son, but that thought was quickly killed. If he went back, he would die before he turned twenty five, how he didn’t know, but Hagaromo said the universe itself would work hard on getting rid of him. It would throw everything in its might at Itachi to make him break and rid him from of the set course. Hagaromo said Fate would bless him, but Time would devour him…

 

Those words had scared him more than anything else, because was there something he fully believed in, than it was that Fate was a cruel mistress, and Time would never wait for anyone.

 

Yet it made him feel for the first time in years. Not long ago he had been waiting patiently for death. Too proud to end it quickly, but too ruined to try very hard on staying alive. Whatever came next had to be better than reality, but now that might not be true.

 

Hagaromo had given him back a purpose.

 

The will of Uchiha Itachi was waking up from his years of hibernation, and it burned with a longing he couldn’t place or control. Despite being given seven days to think it through, Itachi was powerless in this choice from the beginning.

 

So on the seventh night Itachi sought him out, but what he found wasn’t a man dressed in a cloak, but a levitating ball of shadows hovering above the air.

 

For a moment he could only gaze into the darkness in front of him, the reality of the situation hitting him harder than the sleepless days before.

 

Itachi sank to the ground with his head in his hands. The silence judged him, his movements screamed of disrespect. In front of him the shadow grew darker.

 

“I have conditions. There are certain individuals you are to keep alive.” Said the shadow.

 

“What are they?” Itachi replied, his voice a mere whisper.

 

“The people you’ve killed in this life. In the next one you are not allowed to do so again. Leave your revenge here in the past, and stop avenging ghosts. This will not be a happily ever after, just an after.”

 

Itachi nodded after a short hesitation. This meant he wouldn’t be able to kill several members of Akatsuki, but he also wouldn’t be able to touch those he’d targeted during his missions as a Konoha ninja. Shikaku and Naruto… Those would be free of his hands too. “All I am is already gone… But I know I can make a difference. I can make it right.” He replied shakily.

 

“If I grant you this favour… You won’t have time for everything.” The shadow replied. “There are rules, if I send you back, you give up your life both here and in the past. You will not grow to this age twice.”

 

Itachi nodded. “How much time will I have?”

 

“A couple of decades at most. I don’t believe you will see the end results of your labours.”

 

He sucked in a breath. That was hardly any time at all… How could he get around the obstacles soon enough? He would be a child and had to start from scratch…

 

“So knowing this, what is your decision?” Asked the Shadow.

 

Itachi closed his eyes and ran a shaky pale hand through his long locks. His hair almost reached his shoulders now. It had never been so long before.

 

“I’m still here aren’t I?”

 

The words were said quietly, his voice void of emotions, and then he collapsed.

 

Itachi saw the floor come closer, but before he made contact with the polished stone tiles everything turned black, and for a blissful moment he was as free as he’d been in the golden years of his childhood. He floated away, his pain not gone, but not a pressing issue for him to deal with at that moment.

 

He was leaving, going away, and this darkness was part of him. It amused him that life wasn’t the light at the end of a tunnel, instead a grey cloud intersected his comfortable void, dragging him back to a new, painful reality, but Itachi took comfort in the fact that he wouldn’t be parted from the darkness for too long.

 

 

He would return. Though for now he had a lot to make up for.

 

~

 

In a dark kitchen on a moonless summer night, a newborn baby cried.

 

And the world would never be the same.

~

_Fin._

_~_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I wasn’t too vague here, do you get it? This was supposed to be a prequel to canon. Itachi's life in canon was actually Itachi’s second life. The changes he caused to the “original” time line created Sasuke (who was never born in his first life), and saved Naruto’s life because Itachi stopped the coup. In this story Itachi is a lot like the early Sasuke. By all accounts a strong ninja, but not an exceptional one as he is shown as in canon. His previous knowledge is supposed to be what makes him such an outstanding shinobi from such an early age, and the reason he makes the choices he does.
> 
> The divisions in the story is supposed to be the five stages of grief, which I’m not sure is actually correct, but it’s a very neat theory. It’s about the stages humans goes through when grieving. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. In this case the five stages of grief was for Itachi’s whole “first life”, and not a singular death.
> 
> I know this doesn’t fit in with some of the stuff we see in the anime, but I’m not sure it goes against what we see in the manga… And if it does, this is an AU anyway, and just written for fun. 
> 
> I hope it was entertaining. I know it’s dark, but it’s an Itachi fic. Anyone who can make an Itachi centric story (where he isn’t completely OOC) and get it to be a comedy gets a gold star!


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